You're a Broom
by Umeko the God
Summary: —Oneshot— The Holy Roman Empire needs some help at talking with Italy, and Prussia is more than happy to offer advice. Really stupid fluff, mostly HRE x Chibitalia awkwardness with a teensy bit of not-perfectly-characterized something else. Written for the tumblr Hetalia holiday fic exchange.


Author's Note: I wrote this for the Hetalia holiday fic exchange on tumblr; the recipient of this fic was hetaliashtino. It's just this silly HRExChibitalia thing that popped into my head and wouldn't leave... well I thought it was pretty amusing, though I'm not sure I got Austria completely in-character. I tried my best to make him do what I wanted in the most in-character way for him, but... I don't know.

By the way, I'm pretty sure that my plot device of choice didn't exist in the 16th century, so it would be much appreciated if you could kindly disregard that tiny technicality. ;v;

This was betaed by my good friend Cynthia (CSakuraS), even though she isn't Hetalian! Thank you so much, and I'm sorry for making you confused about Italy's gender. (Just kidding, I'm not sorry at all.)

Disclaimer: Hetalia ≠ mine.

**You're a Broom**

The Holy Roman Empire watched from behind a corner as Italy swept the yard. It had become sort of a regular routine for him to watch her as she worked, and sometimes he would even try to talk with her, but usually she would run away. He wasn't really sure why that was, but he was determined to strike up a conversation today.

Building up all his courage and determination, he purposefully emerged from the corner and rushed towards the little maid. "Italy!"

Italy jumped and turned, and upon seeing Holy Rome's face she shrieked and ran off, clutching her broom. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry...! Please don't hurt me...!"

"No, wait, I—" Holy Rome stalled and came to a halt, sighing as Italy disappeared from sight.

Just as he was about to return dejectedly into his house, the empire heard a rough, wheezing laugh from somewhere behind him.

"You call that a romantic advance? Man, do you need some help!"

Turning around, the Holy Roman Empire spotted the intruder leaning against a tree. "Prussia? Why are you in my..."

"I just dropped by to grace Hungary with my amazing presence, but after seeing that little display of yours I think you could use a little advice at talking with the ladies, yeah?" Prussia grinned, crimson eyes glinting deviously. "Don't worry, little brother of mine, you're looking at the master of sweet-talking the female population!"

"Really?" Holy Rome was a bit skeptical—he was pretty sure that, while he was the Teutonic Order, Prussia had had close to no interaction with women.

"Absolutely!" Prussia flung his arm around the Holy Roman Empire's shoulders, bending to his knees to bring himself to the young boy's height. "Would I give you bad advice? I mean, I wouldn't want you to go and do something that would hurt that little cutie, would I?"

Holy Rome supposed that was true... and, to be completely honest, he _did_ need any help he could get. "Fine, what advice do you have?"

"Here, I'll tell you exactly what to say. Do this exactly as I tell you, and little Italy's gonna be falling all over you in no time..."

-

Very shortly afterward, the Holy Roman Empire was holed up in his study, frantically trying to write down every piece of information Prussia had told him before he could forget. The older nation had given him a lot of tips on what to say to Italy, which, on the one hand, gave Holy Rome confidence that Prussia did indeed know what he was talking about, but on the other hand... it was _a lot_ to remember. He had already managed to fill up three sheets of paper while jotting everything down, and that was only what he had managed to recall from the barrage of advice that had been bestowed upon him.

But...

The Holy Roman Empire sat back and shuffled through the pages quickly, cocking his head in thought. Had he remembered them all correctly? None of it seemed to make much sense as he read back over it... granted, none of what Prussia said had made much sense in the first place.

Yes, he decided with a confident nod. He must have, therefore, written it all down correctly.

"Holy Roman Empire, are you studying?"

Holy Rome scrambled to hide the sheets of paper upon hearing a sharp rapping on the door. The best solution he could think of as Austria opened the door was to hope his tiny arms were enough to obscure the evidence scattered over his desk.

"Posture, Holy Roman Empire," Austria scolded as he approached the small boy. "Slouching like that is unsightly, especially for..." He trailed off as he took in Holy Rome's position and pink cheeks. "...What, exactly, are you doing?"

Holy Rome's face reddened as he shifted slightly, trying to hide as much of his not-quite-academic notes as possible. "Nothing. Just studying." It wasn't a complete lie.

Austria cocked an eyebrow. "That's not quite what it looks like to me. What is that you have there...?" The young aristocrat reached a hand towards a piece of paper sticking out, but pulled back in shock when the Holy Roman Empire suddenly sat upright and jumped off his stool, gripping a few crumpled pieces of paper.

"I- I'm not feeling so well!" Holy Rome exclaimed, feeling his face burning. "I think I'll go lie down for a bit before I continue studying!"  
Austria watched the little empire rush out the door before turning his attention to the lone piece of paper left on the desk.

Written at the top was the header, _Things that girls like having said to them_.

-

Holy Rome sighed as he walked through the hallways. He had realized too late that he had only grabbed two of the pages, so Austria had likely figured out that he hadn't actually been studying. He was sure to get a harsh scolding for that later. For now, however, he decided to try finding Italy and testing out his newly-acquired knowledge.

But where could she be...? The house was huge, and the little maid could be anywhere at this time of day. As much as he was infatuated with the girl, he hadn't yet managed to memorize her daily cleaning routine.

...Not that he had _tried_ to, of course.

Luck seemed to be on his side today, however, as when he turned the corner towards the west wing (and then immediately jumped back behind the corner), he saw the very object of his affections dutifully sweeping the halls. He took a moment to indulge and gaze at her as she worked, the afternoon sun illuminating her hair in a golden copper halo. She looked even more beautiful than usual, and that was saying something in Holy Rome's opinion. It seemed almost a shame to interfere with such a picturesque view... but he was a man on a mission, a warrior, and he was not going to back down from this battle!

Careful to speak softer, and with less desperation than he had that morning, he stepped out from his hiding place and called out, "Italy!"

The little maid turned and the Holy Roman Empire was relieved to see that she didn't run away this time, though she did grip her broom just a little bit tighter as she gave him an apprehensive smile. "Hello, Holy Rome! I- I'm sorry for running away this morning."

"Oh, um... i-it's fine," the empire responded, gripping the notes behind his back nervously. "I- I just have something I want to tell you, Italy."

She cocked her head to the side, that one errant curl bobbing quite cutely. "What is it?"

"Uh, er..." The Holy Roman Empire paused, trying to remember one of the lines he had been so careful to memorize. "Um... If- if I tried rearranging the alphabet, I would fall and scrape my knee!"

Italy stared at him, blinking in confusion. "I don't get it, but maybe you shouldn't do that then!"

"No, that's not what I..." Holy Rome quickly turned his back to consult his list and make sure he hadn't said it wrong—but no, that was exactly what was written on the paper. Maybe he should try a different one? He quickly scanned the paper and, after choosing one, he turned back around and exclaimed, "You- you're a broom!"

Silently, Italy slowly turned her head to stare at the broom she held. She turned back towards the Holy Roman Empire with her eyebrows knotted quizzically. "But... _that's_ a broom..."

Holy Rome sighed—another failure! Surely the third time would be the charm, so he tried again, "Um, how about... A-angels fell into your eyes and they're inside your head and they're really tired from running now!"

"Whaaat?!" Italy slapped her hands to her eyes in a panic and began shaking her head frantically. "Why are there angels in my head? When did they go in my eyes? Can you help me, Holy Rome?!"

"Ahh...!" Holy Rome looked at his list hopelessly as it finally dawned on him that none of these would do any good. He really must have written them down wrong after all! He crumpled up the papers in frustration as he stuttered, "J-just joking! That was just a joke, Italy! All of those were jokes! I..." Completely mortified now, the empire ran off down the hall. "I'm sorry to have bothered you!"

The Holy Roman Empire spent the rest of the day curled up on his bed sobbing into his pillow.

-

"I just can't believe Prussia," Hungary sighed as she entered the room, closing the door quietly behind her so as not to disturb the music. "He just won't give up on trying to get me to go beat stuff up with him. It's as if he doesn't realize we're not little kids anymore... Don't you think so, Mr. Austria?"

Austria only nodded tersely, focusing on playing his piano and calming his nerves.

Hungary gave a small smile and moved to quietly stand behind him, waiting for the piece to finish. This served to make Austria even more anxious—he was never one to ignore a good advice manual, but...

He soon finished playing the piece—too soon, in his opinion—and Hungary took that chance to speak.

"Did you know, Mr. Austria, that Holy Rome hasn't left his room this afternoon? Do you have any idea what might have happened?"

He had mentioned feeling sick... but Austria was pretty sure that had been a lie. "Not precisely."

"And little Italy has spent much of the evening worrying about angels and fairies finding their way into her head, it's really quite peculiar—"

"Hungary."

The young woman stopped short when Austria stood up from the piano bench and turned to face her. She peered worriedly at his troubled face. "Yes...?"

Austria was hesitant for a moment—he didn't understand the meaning of what he was about to say, and it was terribly embarrassing—but if it was the kind of thing girls enjoyed being told, then...

"You remind me of my big toe because it fell down and borrowed your dress."

It certainly didn't help Austria's embarrassment very much when Hungary collapsed into hysterical laughter.


End file.
